


Collected short prompts and ficlets

by Koyote19



Category: Gundam Wing, Supernatural
Genre: 1x2, Angst, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:57:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2446223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koyote19/pseuds/Koyote19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlets from various fandoms, most done for a specific prompt. Each chapter will be unrelated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Gundam Wing prompt for amatsubu: 1x2 and the first time Duo sees snow.

They were in Sanq the first time Duo saw snow.

Looking back, Heero wondered how he missed the flinch in hunched shoulders, the quiet gasp as panicked eyes darted to the sky before closing firmly. Shaking fingers tugged a borrowed jacket closer as Duo ducked his head, dread on his face as if the flakes of snow would bury him under the weight of mountains.

Snorting, Heero had turned away to stare at the harbor, looking for any signs that his Gundam had been found. By the time he’d looked back at his unwelcome, self-proclaimed partner, there was nothing on Duo’s face but an annoying smirk.

Nothing had really changed in the intervening years but his own perspective, he mused. But now, when the first flakes drifted down to melt against the street, he knew better than to turn away.

Instead, he wrapped careful arms around tensed shoulders, and leaned close to whisper. “Can you feel it?”

“What?” Duo blinked, forcing the instinctive panic down with a determination that both made Heero proud of his lover, and sad that he still felt he had to hide from his own past.

“The snow… can you feel the cold?” Heero tightened his arms. “Looks like it’s going to be a couple of inches at least. Too bad. I was looking forward to mocking Chang’s attempts to cook on that fancy new grill he’s been bragging about for weeks. ”

“Y-yeah.”

“Come on, we should go inside before Sally sends out a search party, or we get hypothermia.”

“I think it’s gonna take longer than a couple of minutes and an inch of snow,” Duo grumbled, but Heero could still hear the note of relief in his voice. “But yeah, inside where it’s warm would be nice.”

As Heero followed Duo up the manor steps, the ashes of a burning church faded back into the past once more, until all that was left was the pristine gleam of new fallen snow.


	2. A Taste of Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Driving in autumn. Dean POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the first supernatural ficlet I wrote, back in Nov 2005. I had just seen my first episode (I think it was Home) and fell hard.

The reek of smoke drifts slowly through the New England twilight. Breath catches, until scent and taste both negate the instinctive dread of burnt flesh. There is no sweet bitterness to this, only the acrid bite of pine and oak.

Taking a deeper breath, he lets himself taste the air; searching unconsciously for the familiar flavors. There is no rotten tang of sulfur or the sour bite of kerosene… not even the heavy seasoning of sage and lavender from a ritual cleansing.

He tastes only smoke. It’s empty. Hollow. Searching the darkness, his suspicions are confirmed by shades of grey in the dusk, rising from chimneys. The smoke tastes of families and comfort, hickory and cedar. It has the flavor of innocence.

Grimacing, he rolls up the window.


	3. Love at First Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficlets from various fandoms, most done for a specific prompt. Each chapter will be unrelated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GW ficlet written for Amatsubu, for the prompt: GW, Duo, first impressions, amazement, wonder
> 
> set pre-series

He stared up at the towering Gundam in amazement, his eyes drinking in the sleek curve of folded batwings with a childlike wonder before moving on to the staff of the scythe resting in one metallic hand. The empty suit stood taller than the old cathedral, back before it had burned, black and still where it rested in the hangar. Waiting.

Deathscythe. He rolled the name along his tongue, letting himself taste the future.

As far as first impressions went…this one was pretty awe-inspiring. With a grin, he breathed a quiet vow, that there would never be any second impressions.


	4. Black Magic Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficlets from various fandoms, most done for a specific prompt. Each chapter will be unrelated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Supernatural, Dean/OFC  
> post Route 666  
> written for Cluegirl from the prompt: Supernatural and "Black Magic Woman"

The pool cue bounced across felt as he let her draw him down the back hallway and out of the bar through the back door, propped open against the steaming heat of August in Louisiana. Heavy air, barely held at bay inside by an ancient air conditioner, enfolded him with the cloying scent of magnolia and lilac, of Spanish moss, honeysuckle and three day old garbage from the dumpster across the empty parking lot. Oppressive heat dragged wet fingers across flushed skin, slowing his movements to match hers as she turned into his arms. He pressed her against the wall, lifting her slightly and holding her with hands plunged deep into dark hair, with hips pressed close and her skirt rucked up against worn denim. Her mouth tasted of whiskey and absinthe, beer and honeysuckle. She smiled into his mouth, feeling the desperation in the kiss and swallowed it whole.

As they came together, her arms tight around his neck and his hands leaving bruises on dark skin, Dean wondered if he was fighting to preserve memories of Cassie, or purge them through the sweat trailing slick down his back. Drowning in the sultry night, yet another nameless woman in his arms and her tongue down his throat…he wondered if he cared.


	5. Waterline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Series of ficlets and prompts from various fandoms. Each chapter is unrelated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for a prompt from Agt_Spooky: Supernatural, relaxed, ocean, laughter  
> Supernatural: Sam/Jess  
> set pre-series

On the fourth date, Jess learned that despite living within an hour’s distance from the ocean for over a year, Sam had never gone any nearer to the water than the edge of campus.

On the fifth date, she enlisted the aid of Heather and Paul to coerce him beyond the confines of the library and student union. It took all three of them to pry him from the car, and he stood warily at the very edge of the swash zone, his eyes on the water as if he expected a siren or sea monster to emerge and pull him under. She teased him about moving to California but clinging to his Midwest upbringing, as she dragged him down the beach to look for shells.

On the tenth date, he kissed her for the first time, knee deep in waves as the laughter of children rang in their ears. It was the first time in the three months they’d been together, that he was relaxed enough to let his smile reach all the way to his eyes, pushing aside the last of the longing she’d never been able to touch.


	6. Curry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficlets from various fandoms, most done for a specific prompt. Each chapter will be unrelated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agent_spooky gave me prompts for gen, Sam & Dean and Savin’ Me by Nickelback.   
> I suspect this is not what she had in mind.
> 
> Supernatural, Gen, Sam POV (references to the Pilot and Scarecrow episodes)

_Show me what it’s like_  
 _To be the last one standing_  
 _And teach me wrong from right_  
 _And I’ll show you what I can be_  
\--Savin’ Me – Nickelback

 

Sam used to think he was a connoisseur of being alone, could identify each flavor one from another by subtle nuances and spices; despite the irony of having nothing resembling personal space until he was eighteen.

There was the sweet rush of triumph, when he’d won the argument to stay at the motel with his textbooks while Dean and their father went out to slay the dragon. But that one proved to be bittersweet, followed as it was by the sour aftertaste of worry, when the hunt lasted longer than the promised hours and stretched into the next day before his father called from the ER.

The bland, sterile flavor of hours spent cooped up in his own hospital bed months later, waiting for time to pass until Dean could sneak past the nurses to sit with him through dawn.

The harsh bite of pepper and adrenalin, as he staked out his own corner of the field, waiting for the phantom mustang herd to roar past in a chaotic swirl of hooves and ozone, lightning crackling from flying manes that left an iron tang in the back of his throat.

He knew the sugary taste of accomplishment, savored for a long moment in the dusty stacks of yet another library before duty reminded him to reach for the cell phone to share the answers he’d found; because for all that the library was as close as he got to home, there was another purpose to being there.

He wished he could forget the coppery taste of anger, storming out of the latest in a long string of rundown motel rooms because the only way to vent the pressure was to scream at the uncaring sky; and he wouldn’t—couldn’t do that where Dean might hear. Hours later, the anger numbed to heartache, he’d caught a glimpse of blond hair across the field and known once again, that he hadn’t gone far enough to escape his shadow.

Sam remembered the taste of saltwater breezes off the ocean, standing at the edge of the water his first week in Palo Alto. From now on, his future was his own to decide, and there was no one there to drag him away from what he wanted. But there was no one at his shoulder either. Independence tasted like coffee, smelling rich but bitter underneath the sugar and cream.

Losing Jess taught him a whole new flavor for loneliness, heavy and cloying with the taste of tears in the back of his throat. Even the constant presence of Dean at his shoulder could not ease the void in his soul.

But all the flavors he knew, that he had ever catalogued in his mind to describe being alone, none of it matched the hollow numbness as he listened to his brother say good-bye from the other side of Indiana. For the first time, it occurred to him that Dean knew all the flavors of being alone that he did, had tasted them all at his side or after he’d left for Stanford.

Finding his brother in the orchard was curry and anise, cinnamon and thyme. Sam grinned. He knew all the flavors of being alone…but it was time to learn the taste that meant together.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficlets from various fandoms, most done for a specific prompt. Each chapter will be unrelated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for agt_spooky who requested: a Dean-centric fic from the lyric prompt “the better part of me”  
> Supernatural, Dean POV

See, the thing is, it’s really not that he has a low self-esteem. It’s just that he doesn’t understand why the issue ever comes up in the first place.

*

He has memories of his mother, of blond hair and a smile that he still sees every time that Sam forgets to be angry. He remembers his father’s strong hands lifting him up so that he can peer warily into the crib as his mother smooths the blankets back.

“He’s going to look up to you Dean,” she had murmured, as blue eyes squinted up at him from a wrinkled face. “You’re the big brother now… so you need to help him learn everything about this world, so that he’ll grow up big and strong too.”

He wonders sometimes if this was really what she meant, but it doesn’t lessen his resolve to make her proud.

*

He remembers his father too, from Before, when they would set up the t-ball stand and practice in the front yard, or fly kites in the park. Before is little more than a dream full of smiles and laughter, warmth and sunshine.

“When can Sammy play ball?”

“When he’s bigger, like you are now,” Dad laughs, and flips him back over one shoulder to dangle by his ankles. “So you have to learn how to do it first, so you can teach him how.”

“I will…I’ll teach him everything!”

*

He remembers After too, holding Sammy careful and tight until Daddy comes to sweep them both to safety; away from the fire and rain of glass in the night. Away from the silence because Mommy has stopped screaming now-- at least until the sirens wail and fill it up again.

Later, Dad tells him he has to be brave for Sammy now. He has to look after him, and keep him safe.

He thinks about telling Dad that he knows, and that he will…but he’s having trouble finding words, and his voice has gone away. Instead, he nods and crawls into Sammy’s crib at night to keep him safe.

*

As the years pass, he makes sure to teach Sammy everything Dad ever taught him, and quite a few things he had to learn for himself. Because Sammy is too small to remember Before, and Dad is too hurt, Dean teaches him that too; gives him all the smiles that Mom would have, and all the love that Dad wants to but can’t remember how. Teaches him to play ball, shoot straight, read English and Latin and count--because losing track of how many bullets are left will get him killed-- and somewhere along the way, he teaches him how to dream and have fun too.

*

He finds a book once, abandoned in a seedy hotel on the outskirts of nowhere, about a lizard with sharp teeth and the hands of an artist, and the human thief that becomes his masterwork. He reads the book six times across half the length of the continent, before it is destroyed by the poltergeist that latches onto Sam in Tucson. He thinks about picking up another copy someday, but there’s really no need. He remembers the important part well enough.

So, really, he just doesn’t understand the problem. What is so wrong about spending his life being the big brother, teaching Sammy about the world and all the things in it that could hurt him—just like Mom and Dad had dreamed for them? And why should it matter if along the way, his only dream has been the same thing?

Because Sam is his masterwork, clay shaped with careful hands to be whatever he wants to be, and whatever that is… that is Dean’s self-esteem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: the book is Ties of Blood and Silver, by Joel Rosenberg.


	8. The Anti-Valentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero gets an unexpected gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen: Relena and Heero friendship

“What do you mean, what is it?” She looked at the neatly wrapped pink package, adorned with a large pink bow. “It’s a Valentine’s day gift.”

“Valentine’s day.”

“Yes.”

“It’s pink.”

“Yes.”

“You gave me a pink present.”

“Would you get over the color thing and just open it? Can I help it if the only wrapping paper I could find in the house was pink?”

He frowned, looking suspiciously from her to the present. She wondered grimly if he actually thought it was going to attack him.

“I promise you, the present itself is not pink.”

Slowly reaching out, he took the present and turned it over warily. There was a dull thunk as the heavy contents shifted, and his blue eyes widened in surprise.

She resisted the urge to bounce up and down impatiently. “Come on… just open it already.”

“It’s not ticking…”

“Of course it’s not ticking,” Relena growled. “Duo had nothing to do with either picking it out or wrapping it. There are no explosives, no fuses, no plastique involved.”

“You do know I’m not interested in girls— right?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “Valentine’s day doesn’t always have to be about romance. You’re my best friend and I wanted to get you a present. Just open the damn box, before I let Trowa have it instead.”

He turned the box over again, keeping a watchful eye on the bow. “I don’t think Trowa likes pink either.”

“No. He doesn’t,” she growled at him. “But he does like what’s _under_ the pink. So would you if you ever got around to opening it.” Next year, she vowed, she was going to forgo wrapping paper altogether and just use newspaper. Assuming, of course, that she didn’t die of impatience before then.

“How do you know?”

“ _He_ helped me pick it out.”


End file.
